The Devil and the Angel
by SilentChild187
Summary: The Night Angel is visited by none other than the Devil himself. What happens when Justice, Vengeance and Mercy, the three Faces of Judgement, collide with the dark forces of Hell? Two-shot. Rated T for mild language and also because it's Kylar here.
1. Chapter 1

The Devil and the Angel by Sierra Shadow Nightingale

The Night Angel is visited by none other than the Devil himself. What happens when Justice, Vengeance and Mercy, the three Faces of Judgement, collide with the dark forces of Hell? One-shot. Rated T for mild language and also because it's Kylar here.

Kylar could feel someone approaching him from behind. He didn't need the black ka'kari to tell him so.

"Come out, whoever you are." He stated coldly, drawing his knives out from their respective hidden sheaths. He didn't draw Retribution out yet, as he didn't sense maliciousness in the being behind him…well, not much anyway.

"Ah, calm down, little Angel," A chilling voice ran down his spine. "I'm merely here…for old times sake."

"If I recall, the old times were never pleasant." Kylar kept his tone steady, but hid a warning between his smooth words.

The being chuckled again, seemingly unaware of Kylar's warning. Anyone who could stand there and stay unafraid was either a huge fearless idiot…or something else entirely. The voice was slightly familiar though. He racked his brain.

Living for eight centuries muddled his memories. He still had excellent memory for short term things, maybe the last few hundred years or so, but if anyone asked him which guild did he come from at first, he wouldn't have been able to answer. He had lived a lot of lives, reincarnated many times that dying soon became a natural cycle.

But he could not find anyone matching this speaker's voice. The stranger had a deep brass voice, heavy on the vowels with no apparent accent. There were no clues.

Kylar finally turned to face the stranger. Being so old (mentally. He still looked not a day over twenty) made sure life had no more surprises for him. He was able to keep his slight shock in check. The stranger was wreathed in shadows, as if they were a cloak wrapping around him. They however parted at his insistent eyes, and Kyar saw a young man.

He was handsome in a terrible way. His hair was black as night, darker than ink. His eyes were horrifying, swirling dark pits that promised petrifying terror. He was pale, as if the sun had never touched his skin. He was clothed in dark garbs, with no visible weapon upon his body.

~ _Ooooh. He has a lot of Talent.~_

 _You think I don't know?_

 _~Judging by your awestruck face, I guess you don't.~_

Kylar sighed. He sometimes hoped the ka'kari didn't have such a sense of humour. But the ka'kari was what anchored him sane. Without it, he would've gone mad like Ezra a long time ago.

 _Is he a threat?_

 _~I thought you said you knew he had a lot of Talent?~_

 _Yes, he does._

 _~So, if you add a man plus a huge load of Talent, what do you get?~_

 _A wetboy?_

 _~My guess is he's as dangerous as a wetboy, most probably more.~_

What the ka'kari offered was something he'd suspected already. Looking at the stranger, he felt something tingle down his spine again.

The stranger dipped his head. "Night Angel," he said as a way of acknowledging him in a respectful way.

"I'm afraid we are not well aquainted." Kylar stated.

The stranger laughed. "Why, I'm the Devil, of course."

The Devil? Kylar felt another chill down his spine. The Devil was a well known wetboy, but he was newly arisen. He was sort of a legend. But the Devil killed for what reasons, Kylar had yet to figure out. But if he could whip out his Judgement face right now…

 _Help me out?_

He could feel the ka'kari sighing. ~ _He has an even balance of dark and light. Very few can achieve of such.~_

Kylar frowned slightly. "Well then, Devil, how may I assist you?"

"I would like to be your apprentice, Night Angel."

"I will not train any apprentices." He had heard the rumours. Heard that the Devil killed his Masters as fast as he apprenticed himself to them. Many good wetboys had fell under the Devil's blade. It was one of the reasons why he was famous.

Besides, he did not want an apprentice.

"You will find me a willing student."

"My decision stands."

The Devil straightened his shoulders. "If you do not agree, I will assassinate the High King. I have heard the stories, Kylar Stern. I know that you were once good friends with the High King Logan Gyre."

"Tell me, then." Kylar inquired. "What is the High King to you?"

The Devil looked a little unsure, for the first time. "My target. A target I will not miss."

Kylar smiled then. If anyone had the unfortunate chance to glance upon the two men, they would've found themselves paralysed at the anger flowing from the shadow wreathed stranger, and the dangerous smile of a predator on the other's sharp face. "You do not qualify as a wetboy then, Sidnethy Fleet. An assassin has targets. A target they can miss. A wetboy has deaders. A deader they do not miss. Mark my words, _Devil_. Until we meet. " He spat the name out, then turned and walked away.

—-—

The current High King was Rahuel Gyre, a descendant of Logan. He had ruled for six years, and had many to come. He was a just and fair King, in Kylar's opinion. Luckily, King Rahuel had six steady heirs already, and a lot of beautiful daughters.

Kylar set off to the Palace. The Devil would most likely carry out his threat, and Kylar had to arrive before him. Perhaps to warn the King, or protect him himself. But he'd probably need another alias. Kylar Stern was too well known, as was the Night Angel. It would only draw gossips and more foolish young men throwing themselves to the challenge to see who could best the legendary wetboy. No, better apply for a guard position.

He arrived at the Palace. There were guards around the perimeter. Apparently Rahuel was clever enough to keep his guard up even if it was a peaceful time. Sort of.

He contemplated his options. He could sneak in, no big problem there, and tell the King of the danger. But there were many flaws in this plan—the King might not believe him, which meant he had to flash his real identity. He did not need that.

But the second option was much more tedious and boring. It probably took a long time to apply for the guard position, and then they had to train and train and all those things he'd rather avoid. Showcasing his abilities was even worse.

Kylar had led an extremely long life, he couldn't help but wish for some excitement. But he needed to put duties before fun. Maybe he could kill the Devil before he struck? No, he had an even soul, according the black ka'kari. The Night Angel would not allow that to happen.

So the second option it was. Perhaps he should downplay his abilities. That would make it better.

—

It was as boring as Kylar had predicted. Many young men were vexing for a chance to serve the King and also get a chance to get close with the princesses.

 _Idiots,_ Kylar snorted.

It was finally his turn. "Name?" the castle butler or whatever he was asked, looking as tired and annoyed as Kylar was after waiting for several hours. Kylar could sympathise with him.

"Kagé," he said simply.

The castle butler looked him up and down. Kylar had changed his look into lean young man with sharp green eyes and light brown hair with a scar down his face. There was a chance that the illusion would break, so Kagé brought a box of cosmetics. "Last name?" His tone was as sharp as his eyes.

"Flintstorm." was the first word that went into Kylar's head an out of his mouth. Flint, for Durzo Blint he supposed. Storm for whatever reasons…

"Age?"

Crap. "23." He said, hoping the butler didn't catch the slight hesitation. Gods, he was out of practise. He needed to lie more.

"What's in that bag?"

"First Aid kit."

The butler looked suspicious. "Open up."

Thankfully, Kylar's makeup box was white, and it fooled the butler.

"Alright, enter the left wing," the butler said, writing it down. "Next."

Kylar entered the left wing. There, he saw fit and strong young men, muscular and handsome. These were probably the best that were selected from the line. But how were they going to be—

The door opened, and a bulky man lumbered in. He had multiple scars crisscrossing his face, marring his straight features. There were more littered around his lightly clothed body, making him look haggard. But he wore them proudly, as if they were trophies. And in a way, they were.

"I am Admiral Ryn, here to oversee your guard training. You are probably here for many reasons," the Admiral said. Many nods.

"Well, I hope you all had a nice lunch and spent some time with your family, because this is some harsh training. What I am saying is true. We have had men die of exhaustion. Our standards are high, because this is protection for the King himself. Work hard, fight hard, survive, and you'll be rewarded well. Laze off, our punishments are severe. Is that understood?" Before waiting for confirmations, he plunged on. "From now on, you will be guards-in-training. And you will refer me to Sir, or Admiral."

"This goes without saying. At the end of this training, we'll have a fight-off. The top ten out of you thirty will make it to the second round, where you will join the last few rounds of contestants. There, we'll have more fight-offs, until only twenty of the contestants are left. Is that clear?"

A chorus of "Aye aye Sir!" resonated in the air. Kylar inwardly smirked. This should be easy. He practised fighting at least five hours a day, and that went for eight centuries. He also had his assignments, which also required fighting. In all, he was in great shape.

Admiral made them start off by learning the basics. He asked if anyone knew how to fight with a sword.

Everyone shouted yes, except for Kylar. Men pushed each other, trying to please the Admiral. Yet Ryn's eyes were set on Kylar, most possibly because he was the only one not to shout yes.

"You runt, come out. Let's see how well you fare in a fight." He tossed Kylar a wooden sword. Kylar caught it deftly out of reflexes. Great, what had he gotten himself into? Should he display his prowess, or just get whacked?

~ _Tone it down a little. You can't best the Admiral. Whatever you do, just don't do that.~_

 _Damn. I shouldn't have done this._

 _~Well, too late.~_

The men parted in a circle, some jeering and sneering, some silent. Most were eager to see how well the Admiral fought, and how humiliated Kylar would be. There were bets going around. Admiral hushed them like little children.

Kylar tested the water. He swung his sword right, then feinted right. Both blows were parried easily. Kylar dove deeper, and flicked his sword in a series of motions. To the audience, it would look like a storm of swords hailing down. Yet none found their mark, as the Admiral deflected them. He looked pleasantly surprised. "Good, good."

Now the Admiral forced his own attack. Kylar followed the flow, as he blocked every coming attack. This went on for a while, before the Admiral proclaimed stop. He was flushed, but also beaming. "What is your name? We can't call you runt if you fight like this."

"My name is Kagé, Sir." he said.

"Shadow? Hm. I'm afraid I can't teach you much here. Perhaps I'll get some others to spar with you."

Kylar dipped his head, accepting the praise. The men were looking at him with all sorts of emotions etched upon their faces—surprise, indifference, awe, respect, envy and hate.

"In the meantime, the rest of you will learn in a different room. The room is separated by multiple stations—spears, javelins, swords, daggers, whatever you fancy. Go out by the violet door, the rest of you. I'll come back shortly. Kagé, stay here."

He left, and the men buzzed around. Some were already establishing friendships, or making enemies, in his case. There was not a friendly look tossed his way.

"Hey, runt, why don't you do us all a favour and crawl back to whatever hellhole you came from?" One of the bigger ones jeered. Kylar ignored them. They were just little annoying pests acting like children. He dealt with worse before.

But when they started pressing closer, calling him dirty names and probably trying to get a rise out of him, Kylar decided enough was enough. He straightened up suddenly, and breathed deep, in and out. In and out. In and out.

Then he walked away, into another corner and away from the sneers that hit a little too close to home for his comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

The men didn't do much on the first few days. They mostly hung around, getting used to the Guard's Guild (the place where they trained). A few sparring practises, a few basic techniques taught, and the day was over.

The same, however, could not be said for Kylar.

Kylar ran a busy schedule. If necessary, he could put off sleeping for a few days, a week at most. So he only slept a few hours a day. At day, he spent his time sparring—sometimes with the stronger guards the Admiral sent to him, sometimes by himself. He'd wake up a few hours before dawn to train and warm himself up by running, then he'd pick up and sword and wouldn't put it down until it was around noon, where he'd grab a hasty lunch and munch it on the way. The men had two hours long of lunch break, and Kylar usually used the time to sneak into the King's chambers and trail him like a shadow. There were guards posted around the King, too, and he'd seen them fight like a pack of wild dogs. Should he be absent when the Devil decided to assassinate the King, he'd find it really hard indeed. It was only Kylar's invisibility that managed to keep him covered from the guards' wary and tensed glares, as if a hellhound would jump on them every moment.

The King needed that kind of caution to keep him alive.

After lunch break, Kylar would dash down to the Guards' Guild to train again. Since he had already gotten everything covered, the Admiral was at loss at what to do with him, and so gave him more free time, on the condition he kept up with the training. That was when Kylar had several options : he could take the precious time to take a nap (which he usually did, unwillingly, by the forest), or he could go hunt down some criminals, kill some guilty souls with the persona of the Night Angel. He could also go and guard the King again. The last option was to find some wetboy

assignment to keep him busy, earn some wealth or so. But the Guards' Guild paid well, and Kylar already had a huge fortune from his eight centuries, enough to last him for another eight centuries and more.

At night, Kylar would sit with the men and enjoy a warm meal before going to his personal quarters. Every men had their own room in the Guild. It was small, bare, and cold, but Kylar only cared about the privacy it gave him. After all, he had survive much, _much_ harsher environments before (like sleeping with Elene but never actually being able to touch her full—dang, don't go down that road).

 _But anyway,_ that was not the point. He'd finish his supper, then creep into his room and changed into his wetboy garbs. Then he'd commit the rest of his evening to stalk—sorry, _follow_ the King. And most of his early hours too. When he was sure the guards were protecting the King well enough and there was no time for the Devil to attack before his next shift, he'd collapse on his bed and sleep it off.

—

This only went on for around two weeks or so. Then, the attempts on the King's life began.

It started out simple, just an arrow that missed its target when Kylar shaped some shadows into a shield and it bounced off. The King didn't even notice, but the guards sure noticed something was amiss. They were more on-guard now, if that was possible.

The next evening, something was dropped into the King's drink. Kylar had to admit it was rather clever, as something else—Princess Amelia or someone being sick and all, drawing attention to the poor girl instead. In fact, the king's life was spared only because the drink was spilled by a servant and onto a nobleman's clothes. It sizzled and burned and devoured the nobleman's clothes. Thankfully, the nobleman had worn thick clothes, and got the first layer off just in time before it reached his skin. The servant was mortified, but had saved the King's life.

The third attempt was kind of desperate. Two real wetboys had showed up this time, and had Kylar not joined the fight as an invisible protector, the King might've lost his head.

Now the guards were aware that someone—a group or a person in charge of a group—was trying kill the king. They also knew that someone was protecting the King with them—a silent guardian.

None of the wetboys were the Devil himself. One was killed by Kylar when he was escaping, the other caught and being interrogated in the dungeon. They hadn't gotten anything out of the prisoner yet, though.

A few days later, a force of intruders—eight in total, with two professional wetboys Kylar had heard of before, four assassins and two bulky ogres that could rival Logan's size—found their way into the castle, and caused a lot of ruckus. Three guards were killed in the onslaught, which was quite a minor casualty considering that of the original eight intruders, only two lived. One assassin got away, one wetboy had severe injuries but still lived, and the others dead by mostly Kylar's hand, though he wouldn't claim all credit.

Kyar considered it a feat that even though he had managed to fight off the intruders, he still hadn't revealed his face to the guards and the King. Which was, of course, a good thing. Low life = less attention the better.

The guard training was completed quickly, as more guards were needed to protect the King. The fight-off was scheduled the next day.

Kylar rewarded himself by spending the rest of the day sleeping. When he woke up, he was as refreshed as he could be.

The men were nervous. The fight-off was a one-on-one, and the Admiral had scheduled the pairs fighting and their turn. They would fight until the last ten were standing.

Kylar was paired with a man named Mason. Mason was not tall, but he was bulky. He could see the man's brain gears turning frantically.

As expected, it was an easy win. Duck, slash, and victory was his. The audience didn't even have time to react.

The other men went through their trails, until fifteen were left. Since they needed more security, those fifteen were chosen. One was eliminated because of a bad leg injury.

The fourteen chosen were then escorted to another larger stadium. There were sixty men there waiting. Only twenty-five of those would be chosen.

Kylar waited for a long time, until his name Kagé was called. He was going to fight a man named Edmund, and judging by Edmund's size and bulging muscles, he wasn't going down without a fight.

There were more bets exchanged, but not by the men in his original group. Obviously, everyone else thought Edmund would win, except for those who had actually seen him in action.

Edmund smiled a ghastly smile, and in his mind's eye, the Night Angel saw those Edmund bullied and injured for fun and entertainment.

For a second, his eyes glowed with furious blue flames, and his light brown hair changed to midnight black. Then it was gone.

Edmund stuck first, his blow fast and hard, with huge straight behind each blow. Kylar blocked the attack, and faster than eye, changed from defence to offence. His blows seemed effortless and echoed with a sort of beauty and age.

It was clear from the second Kylar's blunted edge of a sword hit Edmund's torso that he was the obvious victor. But Edmund gnashed his teeth. Then a wicked glint shone in his eye. When Kylar's sword connected with his arm, he collapsed. Kyla sensed his intentions a little too late. When he lifted his sword for the final kill, Edmund swung his upwards. Kyla knew he was kebab when Edmund's _unblunted_ sword stabbed into his abdomen. Kylar leapt away instantly, but not before the sword managed to cut into him. Warm blood seeped into his shirt.

"Stop!" the Admiral cried.

Heedless, Edmund advanced towards Kylar. Kylar gritted his teeth, and willed the pain away. His skin was already beginning to heal, knitting torn flesh together, unseen by the others however. So when Edmund swung his sword to kill, he was surprised to find it blocked. Kylar whipped his sword around and clubbed it into the man's skull. Edmund collapsed.

The shocked silence of the crowd pressed against him. Despite his best intentions, the blood loss was making him slightly dizzy.

 _Mind helping me out a bit?_

 _~I'm a Devourer, not a Healer.~_

 _Please?_

 _~Fine.~_

The dizziness faded away. His head grew clearer, and he glanced at the crumpled form of Edmund under him. Edmund was not dead, merely unconscious. The Night Angel was eager to keep it that way.

He stepped away.

—

In the end, Edmund was disqualified. Kylar declined a healer, but the Admiral protested. "We need to have you in fit shape, Kagé," was all he said before he whisked Kylar to the healers.

The healer was surprised to find that all that remained was a bloody cut. The Admiral was astonished, and Kylar got to say I told you so.

Kylar was made one of the King's personal guards, which meant he had a full time job protecting the King instead of a half-time job spent in the shadows. His fellow guards were more than experienced in the protecting area, but they were less defensive and more welcoming when they found out he had been stabbed in the stomach in the fight-off, and how he'd handled it.

So now Kylar's schedule changed again. He worked for the night shift because of his excellent ability to melt into the shadows, thereafter having the day off. He spent it either sleeping (he loved it even if he didn't necessarily need it) or training or more often than not wandering around the Palace, trying to see if the secret passages remained around and generally keeping an eye on everything.

It really was getting boring until a few days later, rumours that the silver ka'kari was sighted in the hands of the Devil travelled to his ears.

—

Kylar had known for a while that the black ka'kari, the one he possessed now, was the original ka'kari, and more powerful than all others. He wasn't eager to test that out now, but he hoped what the legends and stories said was true. Besides, his Master Durzo Blint had discovered every single ka'kari…except for the silver ka'kari.

Durzo was a Night Angel before, dedicated to keep the ka'karis out of the users' hand if they misused it for evil.

Kylar could guess that this was the case. Sooner or later, the Devil would come for the King, then Kylar. The Devil didn't know that Kylar held the black ka'kari, hopefully.

 _I am ready for you._

 _—_

For a few tense days, there was nothing. A ball was about to be held for Crown Prince Gavin's birthday, and there was a mad rush of preparations and decorations all around the Palace. Everywhere Kylar looked, there were servant girls furiously scrubbing at the floor, windows and walls, making them shine. Butlers were outright running around, shouting orders to everyone once the royal family's backs were turned. Silverware, golden goblets and crystal plates were washed, pigs, sheep and cows were slaughtered for the grand feast.

Everything was in a frenzy, even the guards. Kylar, on the other hand, was sure that this was the chance the Devil was looking for to attack. Nobles, lords, counts, dukes, and other minor status people would come streaming in that day, and it would be relatively easy to sneak some assassins in. Catch everyone unaware, boom, kill the King, and sneak out in the chaos.

Kylar made it his goal to stick close to the King and the Crown Prince like an annoying burr, in the meantime keeping an eye on the other Princes and princesses maybe…if he had the time.

The night before the Crown Prince's birthday celebrations, as Kylar stood guard outside of the King's chambers with several others, the unmistakable zing of a dart or an arrow zooming to its target. This time, Kylar knew it wouldn't miss.

Kylar was in in an instance, the guards behind him as he surveyed the King's fallen form, and small tranquilliser dart in his neck. Relief washed over the guards' faces at the fact the King was only subdued, but only Kylar saw the small slip of paper tied to the dart.

 _This attack is only the beginning, Night Angel. Watch me._

 _No, Devil,_ Kylar thought. _Watch_ ** _me._**

 _—_ —

The celebrations started early evening, when the sun started to set. Streams of nobles snaked in, and the musicians were playing some background music.

Finally, the feast began. After the feast would be Crown Prince Gavin's speech, then would be actual dancing.

King Rahuel was seated at the head of the table. As he stood up, Kylar noticed the shadows moving.

Damn.

Everyone else was blissfully unaware.

The King lifted his goblet.

Now even the guards were aware that the shadows were moving.

The King opened his mouth. "To my son, Crown Prince Gavin!"

The shadows attacked just as the applause began.

Ropes wrapped around everything and everyone. There were muffled screams that were soon silenced at the sight of the King frozen, a dark figure holding a knife around his neck.

The Devil.

"Silence," he hissed. "Or else I will slice your King's neck."

Silence reigned. You could've heard a pin drop.

Without him asking, the black ka'kari turned him invisible.

~ _It's us he wants, not the King, but he'll still kill the King if necessary.~_

 _There really is no need to state the obvious._

 _~I can see the silver ka'kari on his finger.~_

 _Wait, what?_

 _~He has used the ka'kari to kill, threaten and murder.~_

 _You think?_

More figures emerged. Kyla cursed the security.

"Night Angel, come out and face me." the Devil sneered.

There were a few gasps from the audience. Everyone had heard of the Night Angel, but as a legend, not a real person.

Kylar stayed still, creeping up behind the Devil.

"Kylar Stern! I know you are here! If you don't come out, I will kill the King!" the Devil roared.

Kylar saw no other choice. The black ka'kari melted into his skin, covering his body. Kyla could feel the blue flames glowing from where his eyes should be. He knew he looked terrible, yet still ethereal like an avenging angel. And he was the Faces of Judgement. And he judged the Devil, and saw every single person he killed, every man he slaughtered, every woman he tortured and raped.

Retribution formed in his grip, as he stepped out in the light. He knew what he needed to do.

There were screams from the audience, but the Devil grinned. "Ah, your real face!" He held up a finger, where the silver ka'kari glinted cruelly.

"I am the Night Angel." Kylar said, extending his arm forward until it almost touched the Devil. "I am Sa'kagé, a lord of shadows. I claim the shadows that the Shadow may not. I am the strong arm of deliverance. I am Shadowstrider. I am the Scales of Justice. I am He-Who-Guards-Unseen. I am Shadowslayer. I am Nameless. My way is hard, but I serve unbroken. In ignobility, nobility. In shame, honor. In darkness, light. I will do justice and love mercy. **I am the Night Angel!** "

The silver ka'kari melted from the Devil's hand, but the Devil caught it triumphantly. But before he could do anything, Kylar stabbed Retribution through the Devil's chest.

It clanged off.

"Is that it, Night Angel?" the Devil taunted.

Then he stabbed Kylar.

And Kylar allowed him to do so.

The black ka'kari crept up, and coated the steel in Kylar, then swiftly processed up the blade, until the hilt. The Devil stared at the black ka'kari advancing towards his fingers, yet could not move.

"I am the Night Angel." Kylar said. "I am Vengeance, Justice and Mercy. Killing you is my judgement."

And Kylar stabbed the Devil through the back.

The silver ka'kari had once again melted from his hand and was now in Kylar's fist. The Devil stumbled, and fell. Blue flames engulfed his body, until ashes were all that remained.

Kylar stepped back again. He could feel himself getting weaker and weaker. The silver ka'kari joined the black ka'kari in the hilt of Retribution, and Retribution melted into him.

He could feel himself falling onto the cold stone floor besides the King's feet. The King shouted for healers, but he knew it was too late. The rest of the Devil's band started fighting against the guards, but they knew it was a furtive fight. Their leader was dead.

Kylar had not died for around seventy years. Now, he let the familiar light embrace him again.

—

 **That was one hell of a story.**


End file.
